That Fascinating Thing
by WhatsABriard
Summary: "Brave boy." She whispers as they head up the stairs to the door. (M-rated companion piece to "Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot".)
1. Chapter 1

**That Fascinating Thing**

_When you do that little thing_

_That fascinating thing_

_I get so fascinated with you, baby_

_My knees get weak_

_Every time you speak my name_

_The way you treat me_

_Mama, means everything_

_Come on and do that thing_

_That fascinating thing_

_-That Fascinating Thing, Squirrel Nut Zippers_

* * *

Jack wants to surprise her.

Sitting side by side in his car, they are heading back to her home. She has a self-satisfied grin on her face that she doesn't even bother to hide, and she slides nearer him to rest her head on his shoulder. Her hands are anything but still as she sets to drawing aimless patterns across the thigh of his trousers.

He thinks he knows what she believes of him. Conservative, proper Jack Robinson. She takes extreme delight in scandalizing him, and he knows this new turn in their relationship will be no different. He is relieved that she keeps her movements mostly chaste, for it would do them no good to wreck on the way back to her home.

He has no doubt she is more worldly and well-versed than he in the arts of love. She is also less prone to fits of self-doubt and it is very, very difficult to embarrass her. But he's no wide-eyed virgin himself and he will enjoy the challenge of surprising her.

His first chance comes when the arrive at her home. She offers to clear the staff, to give them some privacy, but he shakes his head. He has no intention of hiding...whatever this is. He feels no actual shame. There is danger in secrets and pretending it isn't happening will only further everyone's eventually shock when it "comes out", as it were. He has no plans to make a bigger deal of his relationship with Phryne than is necessary - it really is nobody else's business. Besides, what they've built is far too precious to be treated as an embarrassment. He doesn't want anyone - not friend or foe - to use his relationship with Phryne as a weapon. The easiest way to avoid that would be to confront things head on.

So when she offers to shuttle Dot and Mr Butler off to bed before he comes in, he shakes his head. "I don't plan to sneak out before dawn, either."

Her pleasure is evidenced by the flush up from her collar and she takes a deep steadying breath.

"Brave boy." She whispers as they head up the stairs to the door.

"Man." Jack reminds her, and if the hand on her back is a little too low for modesty's sake... well.

She's not going to complain.

* * *

Phryne is ready to head upstairs the minute they enter the house, but Jack has other plans. He inclines his head to the parlor - where so many of their evenings have begun and ended - and she gives him a pout as she follows him.

This part - this anticipation - is important. Much of their friendship has grown in this parlor, with whiskey-tinged exchanges. He has admitted many of his deepest secrets to her in this room, and she has done the same for him. To skip it would seem sacrilege. He wants to maintain this - ease they've built.

But it doesn't have to be all seriousness, a fact that he makes clear when he takes a seat on the sofa and pats his knee.

Phryne doesn't need to be asked twice before she drapes herself over his lap, looping the arm holding her drink around his neck, letting the glass dangle from her fingers. She brushes her nose against Jack's, one way and then another, gently teasing. He wants to remember this for always, the easy way they slip into this new future. The comfort he feels, with his arms full of Phryne. How familiar her breath is against his cheek, the slightest tickle of her eyelashes against his forehead.

Unsurprisingly, they discuss the case. Low murmurs of earlier disagreements lead them to conclusions and theories that they will investigate come morning. She apologizes without actually issuing the words, promising to behave better in the company of other officers. He swears he did not mean it when he told her she was "playing" at detecting. It is a testament to their faith in each other when that is all it takes. He knows. She knows.

They know.

It is amazing to Jack, even after all this time, the way she can discuss a case so seriously while simultaneously toying with his senses. She has long since abandoned her glass of whiskey and instead plays with the end of his tie, sliding it between her fingers as she looks at him from beneath her lashes. Her eyes are full of the promise of pleasure yet to come, and this time he knows it is not merely a game she is playing. Or, if it is a game, it is one they will both win.

She continues to talk out the case, punctuating her thoughts with kisses placed over all the bare skin she can reach. (Which, thanks to her busy fingers, is more than when he sat down) He finds the dichotomy completely thrilling and, it is on a particularly interesting explanation of her belief in the killer's 'secondary motive' that moves Jack to action. He stalls her words with his lips, gently and searching. She twines her arms around his neck and pulls him close, not missing a beat. This time it is her tongue that begs entrance and he allows it on a (manly, he is sure) whimper. Their previous kisses were hasty, one as a cover the other as a stall in an argument.

This...is slow. He wants to taste every part of her and she seems equally thrilled to do the same. Her touch is lazy, unhurried, and mind-meltingly thorough. When they must finally separate to breathe she grabs at his earlobe with her teeth, nibbling a bit more forcefully than he's used to.

"Tut," He whispers and latches his own lips onto her neck, a spot he had merely grazed earlier that he now showers with attention. Her skin is sweet here, citrus and flowers mixing with a taste that is all Phryne. The hum in her throat sends vibrations through his entire body and he cannot help but pinch his teeth against the softness of her skin. He is rewarded with a groan of pleasure and, he thinks, surprise.

Her hands are at his shoulders, kneading like a cat and her tongue traces along his neck. His hands, curl up her spine and down again, pulling her closer to him. His arousal is no longer merely an emotional thing, and she makes a sound between a giggle and a groan when she feels him beneath her. She starts to pull away, no doubt to lead him up the stairs to her room, but he is in no mood to rush. He holds her still against him with one arm, the other fiddling with the pearl buttons of her blouse.

She shoos his hands away and leans back, giving him a fair view as she slowly unbuttons her blouse. She is rewarded with Jack's undivided attention, gaze caressing each inch of skin as it is revealed. He wonders if she has imagined this - a private performance of seduction - just for him.

When her blouse is completely unbuttoned, he pushes the light silk from her shoulders to pool at her elbows. With exquisite gentleness he brushes the backs of his fingers over her sternum. He feels the noise in her chest rather than hears it, and he knows they are reaching the end of what they should allow here in the parlor.

In the way that only Miss Fisher can, she anticipates his next move and stands. Her fingers reach for his and she walks backwards towards the stairs, the fingers of her free hand curling in come-hither.

He follows her.

(Wouldn't you?)

* * *

_Yeah, now look at what you've done! I even made artwork to go with this (cover image). Honestly, someone should take the internet away from me. I can't be trusted to behave. Oh well. I'm not sorry. Yeah, there's more to __come__._

_haha. I TOTALLY WENT THERE. I'm well into my thirties and nothing hurts because faaaandommmmmm..._


	2. Chapter 2

They are giggling adolescents by the time they reach the landing. It has taken them an extraordinarily long time to get that far; stopping every few steps for kisses and caressing has slowed their progress. When Phryne's hand slips below the waistband of his slacks, he cannot contain a groan. With wide-eyed glee Phryne places her palm over his lips.

"We wouldn't want to scandalize Dot." She whispers, but it turns into a barely contained squeak as he laps at her hand and nips gently.

"You mean you haven't already?" He asks against her ear, tongue trailing hotly until she forgets the question. She can see her door, just a few steps ahead. But with the way his fingers brush the undersides of her breasts and his arousal presses against her backside, she has serious doubts that they'll make it that far. It seems as if his whole body is curled around her and neither of them is having any luck at managing their thoughts.

Jack is on sensory overload when they finally tumble across the threshold into her room and Phryne shuts the door behind them.

"Lock it," His voice sounds strained to his own ears and the click of the tumblers falling into place make the entire evening that much more real. He has no misgivings, only delicious anticipation.

Phryne turns and presses her back against the door, both hands behind her still on the doorknob. She is quite the picture, with her blouse hanging open, her lips swollen from their kisses, and the most dangerous look in her eyes. She has never been particularly shy about her interest in Jack. But now, with the prize so firmly in sight, she has a relentless look about her that gives him just the slightest thrill.

Phryne watches Jack closely and he feels as though she's looking into him. Her gaze is assessing and she finally tilts her head.

"I've imagined this moment." She confesses, but it sounds more like a dare. She knows she's not saying anything he hasn't already guessed.

Another opportunity presents itself and Jack takes it. "So have I." He replies gruffly. "In so many, many ways."

Her surprise is mingled with pleasure and Jack doesn't have time to brace before she's flinging herself into his arms. They tumble backwards onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and clothing and they kiss so hard their teeth clatter together.

It is as though Jack has lit her fuse and Phryne is exploding in his arms. Had she truly believed he never imagined being in her arms? Taking her to bed in this sinful room, and burying all his concerns in the warm, wet heat of her?

He was still a man, after all, something he planned to remind her of very soon.

The grappled with each other for control of the situation, as usual. Phryne may have experience on her side, but Jack is very well versed in close quarter combat and before long she is pinned against his chest, her arms secured behind her back. The smirk he gives her is reflected in the tilt of her lips and she lunges forward to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Jack cannot not help but gape at the way her breasts strain against her silk chemise and he is forced to let her go so he could reach and remove the filmy boundary.

When her breasts are finally bared for him, he can't swallow the groan of pleasure. He doesn't have a boatload of experience with breasts - although he has seen his fair share - but he believes hers to be just right. Truly, they are the perfect size and shape for his mouth, as he demonstrates by closing his lips over one nipple. Phryne laughs and tosses her head back with pleasure while encouraging Jack's exploration with a hand at the nape of his neck.

"Yes, Jack," Her whispers slide over his skin, leaving a flush of heat in their wake. He doesn't know why he finds her verbosity in bed a surprise, all things considered. But still, her words of encouragement spur him on.

She allows him his time to explore the delicate skin across her throat, in the shadow of her breasts, and even her slightly ticklish navel. He takes it slowly, laying her back amid the sea of satin bedclothes, charting the territory between her ribs. He lazily undoes the button of her trousers and she shimmies her hips to help him remove the garment, taking her smalls with it.

He stands back and his breath whooshes out in exhalation at the sight of her naked, (save for her stockings and garters and - jesus christ - her shoes) unabashed and spread like Venus. Her eyebrow tilts skyward at his plain admiration and once more she crooks a finger in his direction. He starts to pull at his limply hanging tie and unbuttoned shirt but she shakes her head.

"Leave it." She whispers and he can't suppress a shudder. Slowly he crawls until he is hovering over her, his hands holding him above her on either side of her flat stomach. He is dumb enough to look to his left and catches a glimpse of them in the mirror over her dressing table and if he was hard before, he is steel now. She is almost fully naked, writhing beneath him with a determined look in her eye. He is almost fully dressed between her thighs. It is a wanton image that he knows he will not soon forget. She clutches his hips with her strong thighs and draws him down to her, hands slipping between them to undo the fly of his trousers completely.

The facade of the seductress falters now, as hunger overtakes her carefully constructed persona. Jack can only grab at the bed sheets when he feels her hand close around his cock and free him from his pants. Having him at her mercy seems to give her a rush of confidence because she arches to nip at his chin before urging him down on top of her.

A glance into the mirror again and he is almost finished right then. Phryne follows his gaze and a delighted noise bubbles in her chest.

"Jack likes to watch." She tries to sound amused but it falls from her lips as more of a vow and then she loses the ability to speak as he starts to push inside her.

His brain goes numb momentarily at the soft heat between her thighs, still not entirely trusting that this isn't one of his spectacularly realistic dreams.

But she rises up to meet him, her hips shifting in time and he is forced to leave all coherent thoughts behind as they rock into a frenzied rhythm.

Sloppily Phryne reaches her hand to his face and turns his cheek until he meets her eyes in the mirror.

"Harder," She pleads and bites her lip, staring into the reflection of him. The prolonged eye contact quickly becomes too much and Jack buries his face between her breasts, humming against the soft skin.

Phryne hears him mumbling but cannot make out the words.

"Whaaaa…" She asks ineloquently, not quite sure how he's forming words with the way his body is moving so determinedly moving.

"I," He raises his head just a bit and punctuates his words with a solid thrust. "Love." Another. "Your." She whimpers in pleasure. "Breasts."

It takes a few more strokes for her to digest what he's said and suddenly she is giggling. For a moment Jack is taken aback - many things have happened to him with women in bed. But he hasn't yet had a woman laughing at him. Until now. He falters and Phryne responds with a gentle thwack against his butt cheek.

When she can finally catch her breath (he has lifted her hips to change the angle and put a quick stop to her laughter, something he notes with a smug smile) she closes the distance between them and sucks his lower lip into her mouth.

With one hand clutching his hips to her, the other slips between them to pluck at the nub of her clit. Her fingers brush him where they join and she can feel the tension in his body increase ten fold.

Her toes curl into the sheets and her vision blurs just before she gives in to her orgasm, allowing it to crash over her with a somewhat unexpected intensity. She is just about coherent again when she lathes her tongue over Jack's adam's apple. On a final, pained groan he spill into her and collapses, completely boneless, on top of her.

His warm weight is delicious, like a very cozy blanket, and she wants to curl beneath him for the rest of the night. But he rolls away and slides from her folds and she is instantly pouting at the cool between them. She had pegged Jack Robinson as a cuddler, something she was looking forward to.

"Don't go." The words are out before she can even think what vulnerability they give away. Jack turns to give her a strange look and then proceeds to step out of his pants.

"I'm not. I'm just…" He sheds his dress shirt, socks and shoes - he still has his shoes on? - before falling back into bed beside her. "Overdressed."

She lifts a lithe leg and her heeled shoe dangles from the toe precariously. With a wicked smile she kicks it off across the room followed quickly by the other.

"Well," she drawls, looking him up and down with a satisfied expression that he returns. She is relieved to find no trace of regret on his beautiful face and when she draws her fingers down over his lips he kisses them as they pass. "That was fun."

* * *

_They're not done because you know what? Jack __**is**__ a cuddler and we know Phryne likes her pillow talk. So there's that to look forward to._

_I went back and forth about having them discuss birth control but I went with the headcanon that Jack knows Phryne well enough to know she's careful. But for all you kids reading (AND WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT? Get off my lawn!) - always discuss your protection. Don't make it the other person's responsibility. We are all responsible for our own bodies. I get to pretend it's a mood killer in fiction but in real life it's one of those Big Kid things you have to do. Ok? /end PSA_

_I recently told Fi B that I write everything based on a single mental image, or perhaps a series of them. I leave you to guess which mental image spawned this chapter. OH MAI GAWD._


	3. Chapter 3

Jack is not surprised to find that Phryne is quite handsy after making love. What does surprise him is the complete lack of seduction in her touch. It is as though she is creating a tactile map of his body. Her fingertips trace the bones in his shoulders; follow the tendons in his legs. Her attention is disconcerting as she runs her fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. She finds all the bumps, lumps, and tears that are souvenirs from the war and though he knows she feels them, she doesn't appear to acknowledge them. Long minutes pass as she charts the territory she has been denied for so long, a half-smile curving her lips.

Jack is fascinated by her single mindedness; the furrow between her brows and the intense concentration in her eyes. He has often been the subject of Phryne Fisher's scrutiny, but never quite like this. Finally, with a satisfied huff, she settles beside him in the bed and curls her body into his warmth.

Silence has reigned for long minutes and it begins to make Jack uncomfortable. Have they come to this place in their relationship and have found that, without unrequited attraction underpinning their interactions, they have nothing to speak about? Was he so much of a disappointment that she can't find the words to let him off easy? Not usually a self-conscious man, nonetheless he finds his mind suddenly racing with scenarios that are all equally unflattering to his performance.

Phryne's finger pokes sharply between his ribs and effectively stalls his galloping thoughts. Her voice is low and amused when she speaks. "You are worrying awfully loud."

"It's just…" He finds himself tongue-tied, something he hasn't experienced with her since those first awkward meetings. He cannot help but feel out of his depth but he knows with her it is better to approach all problems head on. So he voices the niggle of worry that is fast becoming a genuine concern. "Why did you laugh? Earlier."

Phryne's face registers honest confusion and her response was swift, with just a hint of an uncomfortable chuckle beneath the surface. "Why ever wouldn't I?"

He winces and her expression becomes even more perplexed. His hands, resting on the skin of her stomach, are suddenly clammy. He told himself, in rather stern tones, before he ever took her to bed, that he wouldn't think on all the many (many many?) men who would have come before. Phryne lives in the moment, he is sure, and he doesn't think her mind would move to compare him to anyone. But suddenly the specter of previous suitors are rather haunting.

Once more she seems to sense his wandering thoughts because her fingers brush gently over his chin and turns his gaze to hers. Her expression is soft and her gaze holds his steadily until she is sure he is paying attention. Whatever she is searching for, she appears to find because she looks abashed and ducks her chin in wordless apology.

She steeples her fingers beneath her chin and cocks her head before she gives way to a story.

"After Rene," she begins, and immediately his muscles clench. One of his greatest regrets is that he did not do more harm to DuBois. Her elbow nudges into him gently and refocuses his attention. "I was frightened. Obviously. I believed on some level that his behavior was my fault. Whatever joy and freedom I'd found in the arms of men had been lost. With Rene it was serious. It was...ownership.

"My response was not what you might expect." Her eyes glaze over in the remembrance, amusement and pain mingled together. "I didn't withdraw. If anything, I was emboldened. Whatever helplessness Rene made me feel, I buried it in the arms of a series of lovers whose names I don't even remember now. It wasn't joyful. It wasn't happy. Pleasurable, for sure. But…"

She trails off and presses her cheek to Jack's chest. The steady beat of his heart seems to settle her and he lets loose the breath he has been holding. He does not want to hear this, but she seems intent to share with him.

"I met Julien at the salon of a friend of a friend. The war had left him wounded, disfigured even, but surprisingly joyful. He told us all that the war had filled him with enough agony to last three lifetimes. He would see only the good in life. He pursued me with a single-mindedness that left me breathless. Through Rene sex had become my sword and shield and Julien disarmed me." She smiles at the memory of him. It is a rueful grin, filled with memories of a time that is both haunting and defining. "He reminded me what it was like to make love. To enjoy the body of my partner. To find power, not in taking but in true connection and happiness.

"With Rene, I had forgotten how to laugh. Julien taught me how again. We drifted apart as we did in those days. Paris is big and our paths ceased to cross. But I will never forget the way his chest rumbled with joy beneath me. To laugh in love, he said, is the best kind of laughter."

When she finally looks up to meet Jack's gaze again, his smile is tentative. He hadn't realized how joyless his life had become until he met Phryne. When she swept past him out of the lavatory in the Andrews home, she brought with her a breeze that loosened the cobwebs of his existence. And now, once more, she sheds light on the things he doesn't particularly care to see. For so long, loving with Rosie was a means to an end. Their youthful exuberance and pleasure in the act was replaced by the desperation of finding a connection even while feeling the other person slip further and further away. Each time they failed to produce a child, the wedge drove deeper between them. He knows he will have to rely on her to be his guide back to those things he thought lost forever.

"I like to laugh with you." She says, and her voice is barely above a whisper. The words are heavy with emotion she doesn't yet seem willing to express and her eyes, usually so clear and bright, are just a bit misted.

Jack cups at her chin and draws her forward to press their lips together. There is apology in his kiss; apology for his self-consciousness and clumsiness and for his doubt. For making her feel she owed him an explanation. He allows the fingers of his free hand to skitter across the soft skin of her side and draw lightly over her ribs until she jerks in his arms and a giggle escapes her lips.

"Ticklish, Miss Fisher?" He murmurs against her mouth and then buries his nose against her cheek. Crisis averted, he thinks to himself, then makes the decision to think no more. He takes the initiative to flip them until he is hovering above her, her silky black hair spread on the pillow. She eyes him appreciatively, following the sharp angles of his shoulders down to his trim waist and lower. Her tongue swipes at her lips in anticipation and Jack longs hear her laughter once more. Gentle fingers slip over her skin and seek out the spots that draw twitches and sighs. When he tickles at the back of her knee he is rewarded with a shriek and her entire body bows into his arms. It isn't long until they are twisting around each other, seeking sensitive bits of skin, driving one another to laughter until they cannot breathe.

When they finally settle again, she is astride his lap with her arms looped around his neck. She presses her forehead to his and bumps his nose with hers.

"I like to laugh with you, too." He mumbles against her cheek.

* * *

_Are you still here? I lost my thread and just now picked it up again! It's feast or famine with my muse, and she's particularly disinterested in writing when I have so much good stuff to read. _

_I started this story in present tense and - god - is that hard to keep up with. I have tried to find all my tense issues (I slip all over the place when I'm writing) but if I missed a few - sorry! I'm swearing off present-tense stories for a while. Pfft._

_Wasn't entirely sure about Phryne's story of Julien. I don't know if she explained it very well. I wrestled with the idea of having them discuss previous lovers after the first time, but her story about Julien isn't about him or even the other guys. It's about her. ANYWAY. I also co-opted the fanon idea that Jack wrestled with the inability to conceive with Rosie. On my first write-through, jack was a mess of insecurity and it just didn't set well with me. I hope I struck a good balance between his demons and his reality. _

_And just to make things interesting, I'm going to start a wish list. I know there are a couple of other writers reading this and various stories have inspired these "prompts". I would like any of you - or all of you! - to fill these as you see fit. Because it's all about what I want, and I am a lazy writer. :D_

_- Jack and Phryne "parking" in the Hispano, preferably getting rousted by the police. - Rose and Phryne having a confrontation. Bitchy? Friendly? Angsty? Hilarious? Don't care. Write it. - Burt and Cec roughing Jack up a little bit and playing the "don't you dare hurt her" card. - JACK AND PHRYNE AT THE POLICEMAN AND FIREMAN BALL. HOLY CRAP, I WILL SEND YOU CHOCOLATE FOR THIS ONE. (this is a holdover kink from the days of the X-Files and the FBI Ball. Don't look at me like that.) - a story in which Jack discovers that Phryne and Mac had a fling at least once and Phryne tells him it really had no real hope of becoming anything more because of what Mac called Phryne's "unfortunate preference for cock". Triple bonus points if whiskey comes out his nose at that. My first born if Mac is there for the conversation and is completely unabashed._

_That's it. I'm done. Carry on! _


	4. Chapter 4

It is really no surprise to Jack to find that Phryne sleeps with the same abandon she applies to life. She is sprawled carelessly beside him on her stomach, her fist tucked up under her chin. Dark hair spreads across the pillow and her face and is disturbed only on very deep exhalations. A strand is attached to her lips and Jack gently brushes away. He is rewarded with a sighing rendition of his name. His fingers linger on her lips and when she opens her eyes, they are muzzy.

"Jack?" This time it's a question, as though she is surprised to find him there. "You're here."

"Who else would it be?" He jokes, then realizes it could be any number of men and his expression settles to pinched. "Never mind. You said my name in your sleep."

"Of course I did." She says as she stretches and rolls closer to him, throwing her thigh over his hips and burrowing against his chest. "It's always you in my dreams."

Her words start a fire in his belly and he is on the verge of giving in when a sound in the hall draws him up short.

"I…" He trails off as her fingers slip over the ridges of his spine. He had not expected how easy it would be to touch her, after so long of denying himself. But her skin is warm beneath his fingertips and she arches into his touch. It is something he will find difficult to deny himself in the future, should it come to that. "I should go before Mr Butler and Dot find me here."

He knows if he searches her expression he will find no shame for their nocturnal activities. And while he does not regret the choice to stay with Phryne, he also thinks it would be better if her companion and butler did not find out by discovering him naked in her bed.

"They already know." Phryne's words are muffled against his chest and he jumps when they sink in.

"How...they were...when we came up here." He is fumbling, badly, but he hates to be found out without even knowing how. He is convinced he acted with all due discretion and he's fairly certain that he didn't make it known that this...development was a foregone conclusion. At least not to the staff or, heaven forbid, his Constable.

Phryne's lips curve up against his skin and she lets out just the lightest huffing laugh and curls even closer to Jack. "When Miss Williams came to live with me, she had a few….frights, shall we say. I never thought to warn her when I would be entertaining and she walked into a handful of embarrassing situations before we thought to work out a system."

"A...system?" Jack parrots, trying to imagine the virtuous Miss Williams and Phryne having that particular conversation.

"Simple, really. If I'm entertaining a guest in my boudoir," She draws out the word playfully and tickles her fingers along his ribs. "I leave the hallway light on."

"So as far as Miss Williams is concerned, there's a man in here." A thought occurs to him, one he's contemplated a few times in drunken curiosity. It is a testament to the distracting nature of the woman in his arms that he speaks it aloud. He didn't mean to. "Or woman?"

Phryne's giggle is free and she draws her arm around his neck, tunneling her fingers through his hair.

"Once or twice." She admits, but says no more and Jack's imagination explodes at the thought. "But as far as Dorothy is concerned, not just any man...or woman. You."

It takes him a second to draw his mind back to the conversation at hand and refocus. He doesn't voice his reservations about her words. He wonders how Dot could possibly know, when it's never been before. And he himself wasn't prepared for it to be tonight.

"Because it's only been you for some time now." Phryne says seriously although bluntly. She doesn't believe in dancing around things better said plainly. "Dot knows me well enough to know that much."

Her amorous peccadilloes seemed to have dropped off of late, but he hadn't been sure if it was because she was losing interest in playing the field, or that she was better about not letting her love life interfere with their working relationship. It is startling for him to realize the former when he had simply assumed the latter.

Startling and terribly - wonderfully - amazing. A grin splits Jack's face and Phryne brushes a thumb over his heart, her lashes fluttering to shutter her gaze. He knows it is difficult for Phryne to heel to emotion and the vulnerability it presents. But he also knows that she would no sooner deny the existence of the moon, the steadiness of the ocean, the superiority of the Hispano Suiza than deny her own feelings.

The conversation is cut short by a knock at Phryne's door. She checks that Jack is fully covered and snags her robe from the floor. She seems at least a tiny bit relieved that the discussion has been derailed and she is just sliding the silk over her shoulders when she calls for Dot to come in.

"The door is locked, Miss." Dot's voice is muffled and Phryne lets out a bark of laughter. She'd forgotten.

"The Inspector had no idea we had a system." She explains after opening the door and allowing Dot to breeze past her laden with a tray.

"Good morning, Miss. Inspector." She is nothing but businesslike as she sets the tea service on the dresser.

"It is a good morning, isn't it Dot?" At this, Dot's cheeks flame a bit but her expression is neutral save for the little smile dancing on the edges. She nods to her employer, then in Jack's general direction. "We'll be down for breakfast presently."

"No rush." Dot says, the smile finally breaking fully as she closes the door. Phryne lets loose a bark of laughter.

"My, she's gotten fiery."

"She works for you, after all."

With a skip and bounce, Phryne lands beside him in the bed and pushes his shorts into his hands. "She approves, you know. Of you."

He doubts quite emphatically that Dot approves of his sinful relationship with Miss Fisher. He can only guess that Dot finds him a vast improvement over Phryne's other lovers. It is a dangerous line of thought to follow so instead he hooks a finger into the gaping silk of her robe. With an exaggerated leer he leans in as if to sneak a peek. He is rewarded with a smooth expanse of alabaster skin with the hint of a dusky nipple.

"See anything you like?" Phryne asks when he grins up at her, and his response is to toss the shorts back over his shoulder and cover her body with his.

* * *

_"So," says the gentle reader. "What is your plan, Kris?"_

_Well, Gentle Reader...I have no fucking idea. :) I don't do plotty things very well because they require outlines and details and research and I'm too lazy for that. So this story isn't finished, but neither do I have any plans to continue it. We'll see where it goes. 'k? _

_Also, keep in mind I'm an American who lives in the dirty south so my grasp of Australian slang is non-existent. Sorry about that. _

_I'M STILL HOLDING OUT FOR THAT PHRYNE/MAC STORY. COME TO MAMA. _

_(ps to ABC - I have now ruined the lives of both of my best friends with this show. Our collective mental states are very fragile at the thought of no season 3. HOW MANY LIVES MUST YOU DESTROY? Just make a season 3. GOD.)_


End file.
